Bulder grumbles about a bellyache, desperate to dispel the magma now churning in his gut. Great start, but I need him positivelymiserable.
I ply him with a silty coo, coercing him to swallow the urge to projectile vomit everywhere, then meet Arkyn’s glare through the rippling heat waves—knuckles white as he fists the balustrade. Looking like he wants to do the cowardly thing and flee but can’t quite bring himself to rip his feverish gaze away. “Sorry to say, but I’m planning to really fuck him up.”
“That’s not—”
Another loud crash shakes the mountain from above. A single plug of stone cracks free and plunges to the screams of a panicked crowd bottlenecking through the exits.
I look at the constellation of shimmery runes etched all over the ceiling, a smile hooking my lips when I notice a pattern looped around the hole that now acts as a wind and snow tunnel for the churning storm outside. Apattern that suggests Ahvidesignedthe fortification with a weakness.
My smile is short-lived as a single black talon pierces the opening, then scrapes up the sides, like it’s trying to use the defect as a means to pop the top off the mountain.
A black talon Irecognize.
Behind me, Kaan stops moving—his arms stiff as stone bound around my abdomen.
Not a moonfall after all. But Rygun, trying to reach Kaan.
“Shit,” I mutter as the talon retreats, only for a smoldering eye to peer down through the hole—pupil tightening on Kaan with crushing devotion. Rygun’s roar bludgeons the air, siphons down, and busts through the cavern, pitching.
Kaan wobbles, more of his weight leaning into me while blasting foreign commands that get lost in the clamor, his cracked voice betraying him. In his panicked haste, four words slip out in a language I understand:
“TOO COLD FOR YOU!”
Out there, yes, butinhere …not so much. And although the runes appear great for keeping thingsout, I doubt they’re as good at keeping thingsin.
Kaan roars another series of desperate commands, going silent when I reach back and set my hand on his cheek—anchored to the flaming boil of anger, hurt, and cold-blooded ragefestering in my heart.
I strain my neck and tongue, lashing hissed and hardened words in perfect, harrowing synchrony. Orders to both Ignos and Bulder that grind and sizzle and melt off my lips.
Both Creators are quiet for a beat, as though poised in shock. I picture them looking sidelong at each other, thinking, before they shrug, deciding to shake hands rather than punch each other in the gut for a change.
The ground rumbles.
The mountain shakes.
Clode giggles, like she’s watching it all unfold while feasting on the preserved souls of her enemies.
Holding Arkyn’s ruddy stare, I lift my chin and deliver a surging command.“Luvth at uin shiith, Bulder ahn Ignos. Nailen!”
A spew of magma erupts from the ravine with volcanic force, taking the shape of both statuesque gods standing back-to-back. Bulder, dense and shoulder-heavy. Ignos, lithe yet powerfully built, with a fury of flaming hair.
Arkyn recoils from sight as I spit a final, seething command. Eight potent words he can fucking choke on.“Lahvuu de ahn balcoon aht nah … shúneruin rath!”
Bulder and Ignos turn in synchrony, crank their smelted fists, and power them at Arkyn’s balcony. Bludgeoning blows that crack, crumble, and melt the platform—over and over again. Breaking it down with hot swipes ofvengeancewhile I boil from the inside out; picture each swipe a sizzling slash to his rotten soul.
Picture each swipe another strike not served by smelted puppets, but by Kaan … Kyzari … Veya—
Fallon.
By every folk he deemedlessenoughto siphon into these pits for the enjoyment of the more fortunate, more powerful folk he so desperately wanted to prove himself to.
Until the balcony resembles a burst cyst. A dripping, gaping wound Arkyn couldn’t possibly survive.
Feverish triumph pumps me full yet somehow leaves mestarved.
Rygun roars so loud the air shudders.
I look up.“Duith ashh uin luvth. Busta!”
